


Worth Loving

by prowomptowo



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Past Torture, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 06:34:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15261516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prowomptowo/pseuds/prowomptowo
Summary: Shiro believes in many things. He believes in redemption. He believes in forgiveness. He believes in things that are good and noble and right.He does not believe in himself.





	Worth Loving

**Author's Note:**

> I may make this part of a series, just lmk if any of you would be interested! 
> 
> anyway uhhh s6 ruined me.

Between being Hurt and Healing, there is a murky in-between, where the mind consolidates, the body reconstructs, and the soul revives itself. It is in this limbo that we must learn to forgive ourselves, to believe in ourselves, and to let our shame go. 

Shiro believes in many things. He believes in redemption. He believes in forgiveness. He believes in things that are good and noble and right. 

He does not believe in himself. 

More than this, he does not believe in applying his beliefs of his _to_ himself, where he needs them most. Compassion doubles in value when it's something you can extend to yourself as well. But Shiro is too busy. He is too busy being Strong to ever think about forgiving himself. 

He is a danger.

He is a liability.

Above all, he is a Monster.

For these reasons, Shiro keeps things hidden and silent, keeps them out of sight and out of mind. 

Until the occasional reminder of how horrible he truly is sends him into a tailspin, and he's left reeling, breathless, helpless, just like he was in that fucking arena, that dark hole they called his cell, the table they _strapped_ him to--

All it takes is a single moment for him to remember that he's a killer. And he's buckling down to the floor, throwing the sheets off of his body and wheezing as his useless lungs turn to rocks in his stupid chest.

Shiro clutches his arm, wanting it off, wanting it sliced clean off, and weeps over his knees for the man he used to be, the man who died in that cell, that _boy_ , and the man he would never be because of it all. He imagines being back on Earth with Keith, living normal lives together in a nice house with some cats. Shiro would complain about his job and Keith would complain back: everything would be beautiful and nothing would hurt.

He cries as his arm glows brighter and the heat increases, and imagines what that would be like. Would they argue over the color of the drapes? Would they have a garden in their backyard? How would it feel, going to sleep side by side, knowing he'd be safe from the throes of night-terrors? From episodes and panic?

There's no use in wondering.

Shiro is here, in this present, broken and crying and dangerous. To himself, to the universe, to _Keith_ , which stings most of all because he's the last person, the last absolute person, Shiro would ever want to bring more harm to.

He thinks then about Keith's tight expression before he left, what feels like eons ago. He thinks about how guilty he felt, knowing he was becoming just another person to abandoned Keith. How horrible of him. Despicable.

_I don't want to hurt him_

The dam breaks.

Shiro heaves, sobbing into lap. He'd rather fling himself into space. He'd rather be tortured by the Galra for 2000 more years than even scratch the only person who'd ever looked at him deeply enough to understand that he was more than just the face he put on when he got out of bed in the morning. 

To Keith, he was somehow worth loving.

By the time he gets his act together, Shiro knows his eyes are swollen and puffy. He knows he looks almost as disgusting as he feels, all raw and aching. His stomach hurts. He wants to throw up. What a soldier he is.

Keeping mindful of his arm, he makes his way to the main deck to join with his fellow paladins. They look at him, but don't ask too many questions. Keith's eyes promise an interrogation later, though, and Shiro feels shame swoop in his gut at the thought.

It's one thing to be fucked up. It's a whole different thing entirely to drag Keith into it.

His lips form a thin line and he nods.

Later.

\--

"You okay?" 

Keith already knows the answer; he wonders why he even bothers with the formality of asking. Maybe he can see how close he is to breaking, how he's on the precipice of collapse. Already so tender, deep in a place where no one should examine. He shakes his head.

"I don't want to lie to you. You know I'm not okay. But I'll muscle through it."

Keith looks up at him from where he's seated on the bed. He looks shy like this, but determined. The combination reminds him of how he used to be back in the Garrison, when he was first tasked with "watching over" him. It makes his gut clench and a sad sort of nostalgia rips into him over what he couldn't protect.

"Want to talk about it?"

Shiro's pinched expression is answer enough. He does not trust himself to speak. Not now.

Keith sighs, standing. "Well, you know where to find me when you're ready." Placing a comforting hand on Shiro's shoulder, Keith squeezes him gently and begins to step away, eyes still looking imploringly for any confession or hint that he will confide in him. "You don't need to muscle through alone." Trying for a joke, Keith adds: "Even though you've got all the muscle you need right here."

Shiro smiles despite everything. "Har har."

"But seriously."

"I know, Keith. I'll..." Suddenly feeling shy and self-conscious himself, Shiro glances away, scratching his chin. "I'm just not ready yet. You'll be the first person I talk to. Promise."

"I better be," Keith says, jokingly stern. As an afterthought he sighs and slips back into his more casual tone of voice. "I worry about you."

"Don't worry, baby. I've had worse happen."

"That's partially why I worry."

They look at each other for another moment, silence stretching them thin. Suddenly, Shiro feels hundreds of years old, looking at someone he knew in what feels to be the very very distant past, someone he'd lost, and found, and clicked back together with. Still, there's that sense of divide, compounded by the secrets he holds, by the way he shields the man he loves from the tenderness inside.

He knows it can't go on forever like this, he just doesn't know how to put an end to the secrecy he covets like it's the only thing that can save him. 

Eventually, that secrecy will be destroyed. He will crash, or burn, or what have you, and Keith will be there to catch him. He will find out, whether by accident or by Shiro's own word. Until then, he will stay content here, holding onto this man like his life depends on it. In a way, it does. 

Shiro may feel like a monster, he may feel like the scum of the universe for succumbing to the will of the Galra. He will sink and stew in his shame for as long as he sees fit. Shiro will never forget what he's done, and he may never forgive himself. 

However, he has Keith. Keith believes he is someone worth loving. 

His eyes bore into Shiro's, and they convey nothing but unbridled affection and adoration. 

And that has to count for something.


End file.
